


Jahreszeiten

by redbluebox



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Canon Era, Don't copy to another site, Emotions, Falling In Love, Fluff, Jealous Sebastian Michaelis, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sebastian Michaelis, Seasons, Slow Burn, Snapshots, Time Skips, Vignette, i'm not trying to be edgy and cool i just don't want to be totally ignored, that's literally the only reason, the title is in german bc WAYYY too many people have used the title "seasons"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-25 20:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17127911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbluebox/pseuds/redbluebox
Summary: Four seasons and four opportunities, in which Sebastian discovers he may have emotions after all.





	1. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciel's poor health combined with icy weather makes for a troubled Sebastian.

The cold front comes in quickly and unexpectedly, snow flurrying down on the green countryside. The days prior of mild, mellow weather seem to have simply been a prelude to the sudden drop in temperatures and snowfall.

It takes even Sebastian by surprise. Had he known of the plans the weather was making, he would have wrapped his master up warmly in wool and furs before they left to come to the outdoor charity event he was scheduled to attend. As it stands, he isn’t dressed appropriately, and starts shivering as soon as the weak sun disappears behind a sheet of grey clouds. Sebastian’s heightened senses don’t allow him to overlook it. Whilst other guests ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at the surprise snowfall, Sebastian tuts under his breath and taps his master lightly on the arm. _We should go,_ the gesture says, and the earl doesn’t need to look to Sebastian in confirmation before he starts politely making his excuses. 

The interior of the carriage is almost as cold as the world around them. With Ciel’s health as fragile as it is, Sebastian dislikes risking illness unnecessarily, and reminds himself to take better notice of the changes in the atmosphere in order to avoid situations like this in the future. The boy himself doesn’t complain. Uncharacteristically, he spends the journey quietly staring out of the window, the dance of snowflakes spinning down around them reflected in his visible eye. Sebastian doesn’t feel the need to make conversation. There’s something of a comforting heaviness in the quietness between them and around them, and he hates to break it.

The Phantomhive estate is blanketed in a thick cover by the time they arrive back. Before ushering him in from the carriage to the door, Sebastian wraps Ciel up in his own black coat in an attempt to minimise the effects of the cold. They are both silent as he slots his arms into Sebastian’s too-long, too-wide sleeves, his own clothes still soaked just from the brief stint outdoors back at the event. “My apologies for my terrible lack of judgement, my lord.”  
“It isn’t your fault.” Uncharacteristic as well. Ciel doesn’t like to miss any opportunities to berate or tease him, and there doesn’t seem to be any spite or underlying annoyance in his tone. Sebastian masks his surprise by smiling cordially. The snow outside the carriage them blows harder in response, intensifying to nearly a blizzard. Sebastian’s hand rests on the door handle, awaiting direction.  
“Get me inside as quickly as possible,” he orders thoughtfully, noticing his butler’s stillness. “I don’t want to get ill.”

The words have scarcely left his mouth before Sebastian has gathered him into his arms. They’re upstairs within Ciel’s chambers within a few seconds. Once his master has been deposited on the bed, Sebastian hurries onto setting the fire and warming up the room as quickly as possible. It’s dim and hiemal in the room, the shadows stretching out now that the sun has started to set in an unimpressively grey and quiet affair, with the snow that stacks up against the window making the natural light smudged and hazy. The match Sebastian holds flickers weakly in the frigid air. It doesn’t take long for him to coax the fire into action, flames licking up at the dry timber with growing strength. Ciel’s teeth chatter slightly, imperceptible to the human ear.

“Why hasn’t the fire been kept running in here?” Now he sounds more vexed, his voice threaded with a touch of irritation and tiredness. Sebastian laughs wryly.  
“You know as well as I do that with the competency of the servants, it’s hardly a surprise.”  
“It’s cold. _I’m_ cold,” Ciel complains, although he sounds more resigned than exasperated.  
“I’m well aware, my lord.”

The fire lit and beginning to blaze, Sebastian turns to assist his charge. Ciel is leaning against cushions, black material engulfing his delicate frame, fiddling with the buttons on his drenched white shirt. It’s been made translucent with dampness and the butler’s thick woollen coat has slipped off of one shoulder. His startlingly pale collarbone juts out above the folds of black and white. The eyepatch lies discarded on the bedsheets, his eye uncovered and glowing deep violet. He makes quite a sight, bedraggled and shivering, and yet Sebastian can admit that objectively the earl is physically pleasing to look at; his dishevelled appearance is quite endearing. At least to a human.

“Don’t just stand there like a fool. Hurry up and get me out of these,” Ciel says, but there’s no real bite behind the words. Instead he only sounds vaguely distracted. Sebastian strides over, pushes his own woollen coat off of the boy’s figure, watches it pool around his slender waist. The rising warmth in the room and the mix of orange-red, shadowy light makes the atmosphere seem hazy and thick. The snow keeps swirling down beyond the window. The growing darkness outside renders it a series of blurred smudges. His young master, sitting beneath him, looking up at him with that trusting, curious look in his mismatched eyes, intriguingly intrigued—he is the one thing that is perfectly clear, sharp and still and defined. The room around him becomes vague. Sebastian’s chest feels tight and he can’t figure out why. 

Once Ciel is dressed in a dry nightshirt and wrapped up in blankets to warm him, Sebastian finds himself torn. There are no more jobs left for him in his lord’s chambers, and realistically he should set to organising the rooms in the rest of the manor and supervising the servants. But there’s something in the room that draws him to stay, and not one to ignore his harmless urges when they come across him, he fetches a towel to dry Ciel’s hair.

His intuition doesn’t fail him; it only takes a few moments after he starts towelling the damp locks before he notices the almost inaudible rasp in Ciel’s breathing.  
“My lord, are you alright? Your breathing—”  
“—I’m fine,” he interrupts. There’s no wheeze in his voice, and the words are said without a hint of breathlessness. Sebastian tries to calm himself.  
“I’ll take your temperature.”

He could waste time getting a thermometer, but all he’s really compelled to do is just find out if Ciel is alright. He takes his glove off, pushes Ciel’s hair back, presses their foreheads together. Notes that his temperature is almost perfectly normal—just a touch warmer than usual. Pulls back slightly.

His master is blushing, eyes wide, lips parted. And it strikes Sebastian that a human would probably read the mood well at this point and close the gap, and kiss him. He nearly, almost does. It’s an unconscious action to run his fingers further back into Ciel’s hair and rest their foreheads together again. Just for a second.

But he doesn’t kiss him. The decision would be insane, entirely irrational, and Sebastian is a very logical and calculating being. There would be nothing to be gained from doing it. The moment breaks as Sebastian moves away, coming back to his senses. Ciel looks away like nothing has happened; maybe nothing _has_ happened, from his perspective. The only slight trace is a light flush dusted over his cheeks. Apart from that, an entirely nonchalant expression adorns his face.

“How am I?”  
Sebastian swallows and turns away. “You’re fine. Just as you said, my lord.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading the first part! I've been writing this in winter, so this chapter is the most accurate to the real season. I hope the others don't disappoint too badly in comparison.
> 
> (i think i have a thing for ciel in sebastian's coat and can you blame me)
> 
> **find me on tumblr at [red-blue-box](https://red-blue-box.tumblr.com/) ! i'm stupidly active**


	2. Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gift with the best of intentions causes a great deal of trouble.

The flowers from the Lady Elizabeth are pretty enough. Bright pink Lenten roses, gaudy blue hyacinths and stark white jasmine, bound with ribbon. Sebastian personally thinks the combination is in poor taste, but they are sweet in the context of a young lady sending them to her fiancé. Attached is a note card, unread by Sebastian, of course. He delivers the bouquet to his master’s office after dismissing the Midford servant.

The depths of winter have passed, giving way to the first tentative days of spring, which arrive like a breath of fresh air. With it came Lady Elizabeth’s birthday, celebrated a matter of days prior with her fiancé and family. Ciel approached the event with the sort of grim determination that usually would come with an unpleasant ordeal, not a birthday party. 

Something has altered the earl’s attitude. He’s distant, cold and bitter to Sebastian, even worse than before the brief stint of unusual gentleness back in the winter, and for months it’s been a strain to get him to engage in the most mundane tasks. He is listless in everything other than being spiteful to Sebastian, in which he excels and flourishes in. The passive, almost-sweet boy from the coldest weeks of winter melted away with the snow once the sun came back. Disoriented by the change, Sebastian finds himself currently unsure of where he stands. Previously a human’s disdain would likely be a source of amusement rather than worry—the case is certainly true with the pleasure he extracted from the fascinating dynamics between him and Ciel in their earliest days together—and yet this sudden bout of hatred from the boy plagues his thoughts almost constantly. In their moments together he finds himself straining to do something, anything, to gain any kind of attention from him, and when they’re apart he scrutinises every tiny interaction that occurred between them. It feels like a sickness, and Sebastian dislikes it intensely. 

“My lord, I have a gift from the Lady Elizabeth.”  
Ciel doesn’t look up from his work. “Put it on the side.”  
“There’s a note.”  
“Later, Sebastian.”  
“Shall I place the flowers in a vase on your-”  
“No.”  
“-desk?”  
Sebastian stares at him, unimpressed. They regard each other silently for a moment before Ciel’s eyes flicker down to the brightly coloured bouquet. Something akin to disgust flits over his expression before he beckons for it to be handed to him.  
“Lady Elizabeth has comprised this bouquet of Lenten roses, hyacinths and jasmine, with a side trimming of ivy leaves—one might say that they are excellent choices for a springtime gathering.”  
Ciel shoots him a scornful look. “If you like the bloody thing that much, you can be the one to throw it out.”  
“I beg your pardon?”  
“Throw it out. I don’t want it,” Ciel says indifferently, plucking the note card from Sebastian’s grip. He glances over it briefly before dropping it uncaringly at the edge of his desk, out of the way.

Sebastian picks it up, running an eye over the message. It’s a generic thank-you for Ciel’s gifts and presence on Elizabeth’s birthday. The boy doesn’t seem to care that Sebastian has taken it, so he takes it as a sign that it’s acceptable to leave the office with both the flowers and the card. 

Two minutes later he returns with the bouquet placed in a tastefully patterned vase. Ciel doesn’t look up from his documents when he enters the room, so Sebastian places the vase carefully on the desk, arranging the flowers to present them as beautifully as possible (despite how garishly tasteless Sebastian personally thinks they are) and positioning the card in front of them. Having seemingly not noticed him, Ciel’s head snaps up in surprise, before stopping to examine what his butler is busying himself with. He slowly raises his line of sight to meet Sebastian’s, a look of repulsion flickering over his face.

“What the hell are you doing?”  
“The flowers, my lord.”  
He sighs. “Did I not tell you to throw them out?”  
Ever polite and courteous, Sebastian smiles. “My apologies, but it would not be prudent to get rid of them when the Lady Elizabeth has put so much time and effort into making sure you received them.”  
“Does it matter? It’s just some flowers; I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal of it. I don’t want them in here. Get rid of them immediately—I mean it this time.”  
“I-” And it suddenly strikes Sebastian as strange as well. He also doesn’t know why he’s bothering with pushing the point. He’s so used to following his butler aesthetics and instincts that he does some things unconsciously, but this time it seems like his urges don’t stem from butler sensibilities. Truthfully, he doesn’t care what happens to Lady Elizabeth’s silly little posy, or what his master does with it.

“You’re trying to get a reaction out of me, aren’t you?”  
_Yes, that’s it,_ Sebastian thinks. His little lord seems to have read him better than he himself could have. “You may be correct, young master.”  
“That’s not a yes or a no,” Ciel murmurs, distracted. “You won’t get one, you know, demon. A reaction, I mean. It’s only flowers. You’re the one making a fuss—you’re more worked up over them than I am.”  
Sebastian’s lip curls in displeasure. “The fact remains that you’re bothered by it. Why are you being so standoffish with your fiancée and her gifts, my lord? With anyone and everyone, even. You put on a good act, but I can tell you’re even more disinterested with other humans than usual.”  
Ciel doesn’t say anything, but any facade of nonchalance is gone. He regards Sebastian steadily. He would usually stop here, leave the rest unsaid, but he is compelled to keep pushing by the unreadable expression flitting across Ciel’s face.  
“You’re right in saying that they’re just flowers, master. So why do you dislike them so much? Is it the association with Lady Elizabeth? With what she represents? The fact that she will be your wife—”

Ciel sweeps the vase off of the desk as he rises to his feet. It shatters half a second before Ciel’s hand wraps around Sebastian’s tie. In the moments that follow they stare each other down, anger and indignation burning in the single blue eye and surprise in the two red. It dawns on Sebastian that they haven’t been this close since that one evening in early winter. He feels something of the same tenderness and peculiar warmth that struck him that night, but sharpened and tenser; smouldering vexation replaces the bleary passivity in his lord’s demeanour, and yet Sebastian’s urge to close the gap is still every bit as strong.

“That’s enough, Sebastian,” Ciel says apathetically, all the energy draining out of him as he turns his head away. The grip on Sebastian’s tie loosens and he pulls back, disconcerted. “Clear them up, quickly now. And it won’t matter to you whatever reason I choose to give as an excuse. I don’t see any point in humouring this discussion any further.”

Sebastian stands there, startled and confused, for a moment longer. His mind throws forward a thousand and one different ways to cope with the situation, and yet none of them seem to work, something that greatly unnerves his demon sensibilities. All he ends up doing is looking hopelessly and aimlessly at his master. Ciel is red-cheeked and his body language suggests deep discomfort. It’s only when his trembling hand picks up the pen again that Sebastian snaps out of his daze into action, moving to clear up the lurid mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm touched that you got past the first chapter...
> 
> (i feel awful for lizzy can we get her some justice and someone who will treat her better than trashcan dweller ciel™ (not rc just get the terrible twins away from her))
> 
> **find me on tumblr at [red-blue-box](https://red-blue-box.tumblr.com/) !**


	3. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciel joins Sebastian in the garden as he works.

Despite his job title being only ‘butler’, Sebastian spends a disproportionate amount of time in the Phantomhive gardens. The other servants’ shortcomings mean that none of them can be trusted to do too much work unsupervised, and often the vastness of the estate means it’s quicker for Sebastian to just get on and do it himself. 

The sun is unrelentingly hot and Finny doesn’t last long under the rays, returning indoors after only an hour of weeding sweating, deathly pale and complaining of a headache.  
“It looks like heat exhaustion,” Sebastian muses.  
“I can work on through it though, right? Right?”  
As tempting as it is to send the gardener back outside and see how he fares, Sebastian doesn’t feel like organising a funeral for him. “No, please help out in the kitchen instead - I’ll set you to some menial tasks once you’ve recovered. Please try your best not to mess it up.”  
“Sure, Mr Sebastian, but when do you want me to continue weeding?”  
Sebastian sighs, eyeing the unacceptable state of flowerbeds. “I’ll do it myself.”

Demonic as he is, even he can feel the heat. It rises off of the plants and flowers, making the horizon waver and warp, dragging against every movement and weighing the air down until it feels stifling and soupy. And demonic as he is, he can definitely feel the stare fixed on him from the upstairs office window as he works. Yes, his little lord is most certainly distracted, and for some reason it distracts Sebastian terribly in return.

After a good twenty minutes of near-constant scrutiny, Sebastian breaks off from his task and pays the boy a visit. Ciel doesn’t seem particularly surprised that his watchful stare was picked up on by Sebastian and meets his eyes with a sort of satisfaction.  
“You seem to absent-minded today, young master,” Sebastian says pointedly.  
“The heat throws my mind off of its usual course. I get fixated on the strangest of things, and I can’t figure out why.”  
“If that’s the case, there’s not much point to being confined up here if you’re not working, is there? May I be so bold as to suggest that you take a break elsewhere?” 

It’s after he’s said the words that Sebastian realises he wants him closer. He wants his master where he can feel his gaze so strongly it can’t be ignored, where Ciel is close enough to touch within a split second. Realistically he should simply force the earl to keep working and to push closer to his deadlines. The suggestion he made wasn’t one from butler aesthetics and servitude; it’s something selfish and self-satisfying.

“Yes, that’s a good idea… Set up a chair and a parasol in the gardens. I’ll be down shortly.”  
Sebastian smiles, just slightly too wide to appear to be human. “Very good, my lord.”

There’s been a sort of uneasy peace between them since the anger and tension back in the spring. It seemed to be the climax of whatever unhappiness Ciel was feeling, and although nothing more was said between them on the matter, he began to treat Sebastian with slightly more respect afterwards. Lady Elizabeth is still a lost cause—Sebastian has to urge him to show interest and be cordial—but on Sebastian’s part that’s started to feel like a blessing rather than a curse. His outward treatment of his master has remained much the same, but inwardly the unfamiliar urges have twisted far closer to the demonic roots he’s used to. Jealousy surges at the most unnecessary times, protectiveness from the contract entwining with the newfound emotions that he’s so unfamiliar with to make something horrendous. He finds a sickening relief in seeing his master shrug Lady Elizabeth’s hands and arms off of him, triumphed only by the all-consuming, incoherent despising that follows whenever she succeeds in hugging him or holding his arm. Ever the good butler, all he does is smile politely.

Ever the good butler, even once his master is sitting mere metres away from him, he still continues on with doggedly weeding. His hands focus on the task whilst his mind strays to the boy close by. Ciel sits underneath a large parasol, book in hand, his gaze once again fixed on nothing but Sebastian’s frame. He can admit to himself that it was a terrible, foolish idea to allow Ciel so near him when he has work to do. For some reason that he doesn’t want to fully comprehend, the attention is maddening and captivating. He does his best to ignore it. His physical form doesn’t veer from perfecting the beautiful flower beds, despite his demonic impulses doing their level best to lead him away to the far more interesting and enticing little human sitting smugly in the shade. 

And then Ciel gets up and approaches. Closer, closer still, and then—he places a hand cautiously on Sebastian’s back.  
“You’re cold.”  
He knows if he turns to face Ciel it would be too much to handle, so fixes his sight on a patch of bright petals. “Demons have exceedingly good heat regulation methods. Unlike humans; you’re very warm in comparison, my lord…”  
Ciel laughs and slides his hand to Sebastian’s spine, as if he’s testing something. Sebastian suddenly forgets his ability to breathe, one of his self-proclaimed ‘exceedingly good’ heat regulation methods, and struggles to let out a shaky breath. His chest seems to constrict. He’s glad that he’s on his knees already, as he’s not sure how well he’d fare standing up.  
“Your body _feels_ human, other than the coldness,” Ciel murmurs. “Will you look at me?”  
It’s not an order but he feels compelled regardless. Ciel retracts his hand as their eyes meet, a surprised laugh bubbling from his lips as he stares at Sebastian wonderingly.  
“Ah, but you don’t look it, demon.”

He becomes aware of the fullness of his mouth, sharp fangs scraping against his lip, and blinks a few times to stop his eyes from glowing crimson. It’s a rare occurrence that he can’t control his human form and it startles him that the slightest touch and presence from his human master was what caused the lapse of power. He hasn’t felt this weak in centuries, and never before because of a mere _human._  
“Forgive me, my lord.” He doesn’t know how to explain the situation so settles for not attempting to. Ciel tilts his head curiously.  
“You know it doesn’t bother me—I’ve seen you like that enough times that it’s normal for me.”  
_Yes, but you’ve never seen me when I haven’t had control over it,_ Sebastian thinks, but only replies with: “You are truly most kind, young master. My apologies once again.” “Accepted,” his lord replies at length, a glimpse of his usual cold demeanour flickering through in the emotionlessness of the word. And then he smiles, just ever so slightly, still warmer than Sebastian thinks he’s ever seen, beautiful and flushed. The shining sun makes his whole body seem to glow. His blue eye is full of emotion and so bright it seems to burn within his head. Sebastian reaches up for Ciel unconsciously, wanting nothing more in that moment than to simply be in contact with the ethereal being that has such power over him. It’s an instinct rather than a decision and a need instead of a want. It feels like the most important and natural thing in the world to try to bring their forms together. His fingers brush over Ciel’s waist before he catches himself, starting backwards, turning his head away in consternation. 

“I think it’s time you continued with your work upstairs, my lord.”  
Ciel gazes at him, mute, his confusion seeping into the tension between them.  
“Don’t you agree?”  
“…Yes. I’ll go now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this far! I hope it's going alright for you so far. This chapter was really tough to write so I hope it comes across okay.
> 
> **find me on tumblr at [red-blue-box](https://red-blue-box.tumblr.com/)!**


	4. Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian pushes his master into having a conversation rather than ignoring each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm English, so it's autumn for me. If you think 'fall' genuinely sounds better, you can fight me in the comments... ;)

The leaves have started to turn orange and red before Sebastian starts to think that his errant, unexpected emotions—still shocking to him—may have calmed down. His chest still feels tight every time Ciel’s delicate face floats into his mind, and he has to focus on not attacking any humans that dare to lay hands on his master, but there have been no more unexpected emergences of his demonic eyes and teeth and he’s kept his hands to himself. Ciel is helpful in doing absolutely nothing to provoke him; no more warm hands on his back, no more tie grabbing, and definitely no repeats of that sweet, trusting, passive look that’s burnt into Sebastian’s eyelids from back in the winter. He’s the epitome of lordly detachment. Elegantly charming as he can be, he shows nothing of that to Sebastian. 

Instead the most intimate interactions they have are from Ciel gazing at him, emotions practically pouring forth from his pretty features. Sometimes he looks sad and wistful, but more often it’s angrily confused, face twisted into a tempest and yet still curious. Sebastian doesn’t know what to make of those incidents. Ciel watches him nearly constantly whenever they’re in close proximity, and yet it’s usually impossible to tell what the earl is thinking. Seeing it written so plainly through Ciel’s mien undoes a lot of his careful work to get rid of his own feelings. Sebastian placates himself with the knowledge that he’s making progress.

The trees begin to shed their leaves as the two of them travel back from a minor task for the Queen. The journey isn’t a short one and allows for plenty of time for both master and butler to watch them fall. From within the relative warmth of the carriage, it’s easy to appreciate this time of year; scarlet, amber, gold and yellow streaking past the windows, twisting and turning to transform the drab ground into a colourful tapestry of shades. The mid-afternoon sky is an unusual yellowish-grey, as though someone has spilt champagne over the clouds, and Ciel seems intrigued by it enough to utterly ignore Sebastian. Sebastian is willing to bet that his interest in the sky stems from being able to use it as an excuse not to make conversation.

“The leaves remind me of the blizzard we had last year,” he begins casually, prompting something—anything—from Ciel. His desire for attention from the boy hasn’t diminished in the slightest. “We were snowed in for days.”  
“I remember, Sebastian,” Ciel says, rolling his eyes slightly and shuffling closer to the window.  
“I hope we don’t get anything similar this year. It was a nightmare to deal with.”  
Ciel smirks. “It wouldn’t have been as bad if the servants hadn’t left the windows open.”  
“Oh my, that was so utterly foolish… and how they kept forgetting to keep the fires lit. You’d think it was hard, really.”  
“The latter wasn’t that bad.”  
“I seem to recall you complaining about how cold you were, my lord… quite a lot, in fact…” he teases.  
“Oh, shut up, Sebastian. I meant that—never mind.”

Sebastian regards him. The tips of his ears are flushed, his mouth turned down into a scowl, and his line of sight is firmly fixed on the window. Something recognisable as deep affection stirs in Sebastian’s torso.  
“Enlighten me on what you meant, young master.”  
“Just that it was fine as long as you were there with me. I only complained so much because I wanted you to fix the situation as quickly as possible…”  
“I see. You did get sick after that one evening, so I suppose it was warranted.”  
Ciel raises his gaze to meet Sebastian’s, and he’s sure they’re both thinking of the same incident. The boy’s cheeks are as nearly as rosy as he remembers them being back on that evening.  
“After everything you did to try and keep me healthy, as well.”  
“I can’t be perfect.”  
“You’re certainly close enough,” Ciel says quickly, unconsciously, and that tension between them is reignited. He looks abashed as the weight of his words sinks in, and Sebastian’s human heart aches hard enough that his hand flies to press against it. Ciel watches the movement curiously.

“You’re kind, my lord, and you flatter me.”  
“Not often. You know how I despise complimenting you,” he laughs.  
“It’s always an honour when you do, and I’m always truly, deeply touched.” The words don’t come out as nonchalantly as intended; instead, they’re so heavily laden with blatant sincerity and endearment that they might as well be delivered as a love poem, to Sebastian’s bitter dismay. Ciel pauses for a moment, a hundred different emotions flickering over his face as he seems to struggle to comprehend everything.  
“You must know that I think very highly of you,” he says carefully, at last.  
“All of that and more, master.”  
“I just simply can’t come out and say whatever I think—” he breaks off, agitated. Sebastian’s heart goes out to the poor embarrassed boy opposite him.  
“You don’t have to explain, my lord,”—he isn’t physically capable of stopping himself from taking Ciel’s shaking hands into his own—“I don’t need you to explain.”

Ciel looks down on their hands, blushing crimson, any traces of his usual pride long gone. He entwines their fingers together, purposefully, and looks up into Sebastian’s eyes.

“I really hate you.”

And then Ciel leans forward and kisses him.

Sebastian is always on guard and fully aware of his surroundings. He knows that the slightest lapse of judgement could have disastrous consequences. He absolutely refuses to let anything distract him from his goal of protecting his master.

When Ciel’s lips press against his, the world could end and he wouldn’t notice.

The entirety of his being, human and demon, seems to have been lit up, flooded with static and shocked to life. Reason for existence seems to rest solely with the little human so earnestly kissing him. There’s no reason to hold back anymore, so he can push Ciel into the carriage cushions, use their interlaced hands to pin him in place, kiss him so hard that he’s sure their mouths will bruise—all of which he does. He’s kissed many humans before, for information or to bribe them, but nothing has ever made him feel so wildly, recklessly consumed with emotions he shouldn’t ever be capable of. The urges he’s suppressed so carefully explode into the most desperate kiss he could have ever thought possible.

Ciel pulls away first, which Sebastian considers as a good thing, because he realises he’s holding his little lord’s graceful hands so tightly there are imprints of his fingers and nails left on the pale skin, and somehow Ciel’s lip is bleeding. They gasp for air together, Ciel because he needs it, Sebastian because the scent of him so close is bewitchingly delicious. Ciel’s visible eye is hazy and his bitten mouth curves into a satisfied smile.

“I’ve wanted to do that for almost a year, now.”  
Sebastian leans in to do it again as he answers. “Me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well done for making it to the end of this mess! As always, I'm just writing for fun, so I'm not too worried if this isn't very good. I hope you enjoyed it, though.
> 
> (most unrealistic thing about this story is that the english weather from season to season isn't just... constant rain)
> 
> Feel free to ask me any questions or tell me anything in the comments :)
> 
> **find me on tumblr at [red-blue-box](https://red-blue-box.tumblr.com/) !**


End file.
